


The Maiden's Promise

by AzraelGFG



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post S8 i guess, Queen Sansa, Sandor POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelGFG/pseuds/AzraelGFG





	The Maiden's Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mademoiselle_k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoiselle_k/gifts), [LadySansaClegane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySansaClegane/gifts).



Silent tears ran down his cheek, as Sandor starred at the ceiling of his room. The smell of burned flesh and puss filled the room.

Every breath he took caused incredible pain. Even the milk of the poppy the maester had given him could only ease them lightly.

A week ago it had happened. A week ago he had played with Gregor’s toy knight in front of the fireplace.

Sandor hadn’t heard his brother come into the room. He only remembered strong hands grabbing him before everything melted into a single memory of flames and pain.

For the first three days, Sandor couldn’t stop screaming. He thought he would die. He wished he would die, even if it was only to be free of pain.

But he didn’t die. Every day he fell asleep in pain and woke up in pain. He could barely move.

When the maester had first changed his bandages his mother and a servant had to hold him down. His mother had tried to soothe him with loving words, but it had still felt like his face was ripped off his skull.

Two days ago he had overheard an argument between his mother and his father. They had argued that Gregor had to be punished for what he had done, but his father had insisted Gregor had no hand in what had happened to Sandor.

His father didn’t want to risk Gregor’s knighthood if anything about his true nature got outside.

Sandor felt angry. Yesterday his little sister Elynore had come to his room and told him she had heard his bed had caught fire.

Sandor felt helpless. He was angry with the world. How could Gregor become a knight after what he had done to his own brother? How was he supposed to protect the helpless if he found joy in torturing everyone weaker than him?

Sandor _hated_ knights. He had wanted to be one of them, but if everyone was like Gregor he had no intention to become one anymore.

Sandor had sent his sister away with harsher words than he had intended and she hadn’t visited him ever since.

This morning when the maester had changed his bandages once more Sandor had insisted to get a mirror, so he could see what Gregor had done.

Sandor had imagined it to be bad, but what he had seen had been worse than he had even dreaded.

Half his face was just raw flesh. He thought he got a glimpse of his jaw bone, but he wasn’t sure.

He had thrown the mirror against the wall before starting to sob. His sobbing had made his wounds start to bleed once more and the maester had given him the double dose of milk of the poppy before he had applied the ointments that were supposed to help.

After the maester had left Sandor had felt numb crying in silence.

He was a monster. An ugly monster. How could he hope to ever find love with this face?

_Nobody will ever love me_ , Sandor thought to himself.

“You will find love,” a soft female voice suddenly called and Sandor jumped a little. He had not heard anyone enter the room.

He sat up a little in his bed and looked the direction the voice had come from.

He saw a woman. He couldn’t guess her age, but she must be between sixteen and eighteen in age.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her skin was as smooth and white as the first snow. Her hair had a deep auburn color and her eyes were as blue as the sky.

“You will find love, Sandor Clegane,” she said once more.

“Who are you and how do you know my name,” Sandor whispered and he was surprised because his pain was gone.

“I know everyone’s name and more. The Father sent me to you visit you,” she said.

“The Father? You mean the Father of the Seven?” Sandor asked unbelievingly.

“Yes,” she said. “I am the Maiden.”

“I hate you,” Sandor said and felt new tears flood his eyes. “I hate you! I hate the Father and all the other gods!”

“Why?” she softly asked.

“Why?!” Sandor asked in disbelieve. “Look at me!”

He pointed at his burned face.

“Look at me!”

“I look at you Sandor Clegane and I see clear,” she said and stepped closer.

The gently cupped his burned cheek. There was no pain, so Sandor started to believe she really was a goddess. Her hand felt cool against his face.

“Why did you let it happen then?” Sandor asked. “Why did you allow Gregor to do what he did to me?”

“I don’t know, but the Father had his reasons to allow it,” she said.

“And what reasons are that?!” he yelled. “Look at me! I am an ugly monster! How will any woman come to love me?!”

“You will find a woman, Sandor Clegane,” she said. “You will marry the smartest and prettiest woman in Westeros and she will love you with all her heart. You will be her true knight and your children will bring joy to anyone around you.”

“You are lying! Nobody can love me with this face!”

“I am not, Sandor Clegane. You will be loved and she will love you for who you are. She will see your face as part of you and won’t be disgusted by it.”

Her hand left his face and Sandor saw her face away. A few blinks later she was gone.

Was he really going to find love?

No…this certainly must have been a dream caused by the milk of the poppy. And even if it had been the Maiden, she was certainly lying. If the gods were just, they would not be that cruel to make him a monster only for the prettiest woman in Westeros to fall in love with him.

Sandor decided he hated the gods.

***

30 Years later…

***

Sandor watched Sansa peacefully sleep next to him. He smiled to himself seeing her sleep with a small smile playing around her mouth.

He carefully stroked away a strand of her auburn hair that had fallen into her face.

Sandor had still trouble to believe this wasn’t a dream.

He was married to the Queen in the North. His little bird. The prettiest woman in Westeros.

When Sansa had revealed to him that she loved him a few years ago he nearly hadn’t believed his ears. This evening Sansa had asked him for a private dinner in her room and when she had let her dress slip off her body, Sandor had seen the Maiden reborn in front of him.

This evening Sansa had taken him to her bed and hours later when they had loved each other more than once Sansa naked body had laid snuggled up against him, he had for the first time remembered the day the Maiden had apparently visited him.

Everything the Maiden had said had happened. The prettiest woman of Westeros loved him for himself.

She didn’t see him a monster. Instead, she loved him with all her heart.

And their children brought joy to everyone in Winterfell.

Serena and Elynore were the beloved little princesses of the North, while their son Eddard was the heir to the northern throne.

Sandor gently stroked Sansa’s cheek with his index finger and she hummed at the feeling.

She slowly opened her eyes and smiled seeing him look at her.

“What are you thinking off, my love?” she asked cupping his burned cheek with her hand.

“Just about how fortunate I am to have you,” Sandor said.

“I am the fortunate here,” Sansa said kissing his cheek. “I got my true knight as husband and father of my children.”

Sansa snuggled up to him rubbing her cheek against his chest.

“And I am the husband to the smartest and prettiest woman in Westeros,” he breathed before kissing the crown of her hair.

_Just like the Maiden promised_.

The End.


End file.
